In a study filled with a heavy Russian style in the main building of the manor, the birch wood in the fireplace crackled, dispersing the cold of the winter night.
Song Heping met the key figure of this trip—Vasily Petrovich.
He is a legendary figure.
Although his official rank is not high, his influence is significant.
He is a powerful figure in the Russian Federation Security Council, directly responsible to the President.
Petrovich is tall, his silver hair carefully combed, and his ice-blue eyes resemble the deep, unfathomable Antarctic seas.
"Mr. Song, I've heard much about you."
Petrovich's voice is deep, with a typical Russian guttural tone. He made a gesture to sit down without any unnecessary pleasantries, "Yevgeny mentioned that you have important matters that need to be discussed in person, matters related to our interests in the Middle East."
Song Heping glanced around.
Clearly, he wouldn't be seeing the President tonight.
